


Waves

by temporalgambit



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Seasickness, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link doesn't exactly have his "sea legs" at the beginning of his journey, so to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

Link can count his lucky stars that he and the King of Red Lions had managed to cross paths.

Even without a sail, the boat had been nothing but helpful and courteous from the start—and with the sail firmly in place, Link even managed to get reliable transportation out of the deal. Besides that, he’d never met a talking boat before, and the King is more than happy to make idle chatter as they travel along, talking about anything and everything and nothing all at once.

Link has to momentarily wonder where a little boat without a sail had gained all this worldly knowledge, but at the same time he’s perfectly content to just listen and nod in all the necessary places. It’s a lot less lonely this way, and it also gives him something to focus on other than the intense worry he has for the wellbeing of his little sister. He just has to take it one step at a time, and he’ll find her safe and sound with an epic story to tell in the end.

He hopes.

However, sailing in a sailboat is a lot different than on a huge ship, he soon comes to realize. The boat responds faster to his hands on the rudder, which means the turns are quicker and they have much greater maneuverability than on Tetra’s ship. (Not that he would ever dare mention that to her, of course.) There are downsides as well, though. There’s nowhere to go to escape the rays of the sun, and—as a smaller craft—they’re very much at the mercy of the wind speed with regards to how fast they’re traveling over the choppy waves.

Speaking of which, the choppy waves are definitely more…noticeable.

He’d never spent much time off the island before, aside from the spare fishing trip now and then. And he’s certainly never been out on the open sea like this. It’s different—more isolated, a little scary, and a lot more…bouncy. And hot. Shouldn’t it be cooler in the middle of the ocean?

He’s trying not to think too hard about that part, actually. He has a weird knot in his stomach and an even more uncomfortable lump in the back of his throat, both of which only seem to become exacerbated the more he focuses on the motion of the boat rocking back and forth on the waves, the relentless sun beating down on him from above—

He swallows hard.

The feeling isn’t too difficult to quash for the first leg of their journey—long enough for the island behind them to disappear far out of sight. He tries to pay attention to what the King is saying, figuring it might prove useful for the journey ahead—but then the wind picks up, as does their rate of travel—along with the swell of the ocean beneath them.

That’s not— _oh_.

He’s never been seasick before. He never had any issues with motion sickness in the past, so why _now_ of all times it would decide to crop up, he has no idea. Maybe it’s some kind of karmic punishment? Regardless, that must be what this is, because he suddenly feels _very_ dizzy and _very_ nauseous and more than a little bit like he’s about to throw up.

He resolves not to. After all, he is on a _mission_. He’s still in his silly birthday outfit, and he has a sister to rescue. This is no time for whining about his own misfortunes.

Then the boat jumps a little off the foamy crest of a wave.

He must make some small involuntary noise (both because it was startling _and_ because he is _definitely_ past the point of dangerously queasy now) because the boat turns his head far enough to peer into his face. “Is something wrong?”

To his horror, a tiny hiccup bubbles its way up, and he claps both hands over his mouth, a little too aware of what is bound to happen next. There’s probably no point in lying at this point, so he nods.

“You feel like you’re going to be sick?” clearly the King already knows the answer, but is seeking confirmation out of sheer politeness. Link nods again, squeezing his eyes shut tight as a particularly rough wave tilts them to one side.

“Hm, I should have considered this before we departed,” the King sounds troubled. “I’m sure the island locals could have pointed you in the direction of some remedy…still, it happens to the best of men; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Then, as an afterthought, “If you don’t mind, please lean as far over the edge as you are able.”

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that he isn’t about to be yelled at, maybe it’s the continued bouncing on the waves, or it could be simply that his time is up—but it’s at that moment that Link’s body gives up any pretense of keeping his last meal down, and he barely has time to scramble over the side before he _heaves_ , tears of misery pricking at the corners of his eyes as he’s forced to repeat the process twice more before collapsing back into the bottom of the boat.

He has vomit dribbling down the front of his own shirt, but he doesn’t _think_ he’d thrown up on his companion, which is a small mercy.

“An improvement, I hope?” the voice asks from above him.

He’s about to nod, but—no, he really _isn’t_ feeling any better. His stomach is still churning and he feels lightheaded. More than a small part of him wants to cry as he shakes his head instead, forcing himself back to his knees to wait out the second spell of nausea. It doesn’t take long for him to gag again on the acrid taste of bile still lingering on his tongue. He feels like he’s turning himself inside out, even as it comes to an end and he goes down for good this time.

He curls up on his side, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking his head before the King of Red Lions can ask the obvious question. He wraps his arms around his middle, breath coming in tiny pants as he wills his stomach to settle. This is humiliating. 

“I, ah, ‘sea’ sickness has certainly gotten the better of you.” It’s a terrible attempt at a joke, and the boat seems to recognize this almost immediately. “My apologies. I do not mean to make light of your discomfort. I was hoping to add some levity to the situation, but I suppose it’s rather unwelcome at the moment.”

Link would make an effort to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it, if all his resources weren’t currently focused on A.) not throwing up again, and B.) not crying. He’s not sure if he wants to cry out of embarrassment, the still-sick feeling in his tummy, unhappiness, exhaustion, or some combination of the bunch, but option B is looking more and more unlikely as he sniffles loudly enough for the boat to take another look at him. 

“You shouldn’t—well, if you have to cry, then it’s okay,” the King tries to reassure him. “What might be more efficient, though, is trying to sit up instead. Staying down there will only make you feel sicker, I’m afraid.”

He’s probably right, Link figures. He is a _boat_ , after all. Surely his grasp on the concept of seasickness is fairly solid by this point. So he pulls himself upright, ignoring his body’s protest as the world tilts sideways in a way that is distinctly _not_ due to the waves beneath him. Struggling to get his bearings, he drops his head between his knees in a desperate attempt to get the universe to stop spinning around him for a few seconds.

Of course, the King of Red Lions has other advice. “You may not like it, but it is actually more beneficial to keep your head up, with your eyes focused on the horizon, and—oh, you _are_ quite green, aren’t you?” he takes a moment to observe as Link miserably follows his directions, “Almost matching your clothing, there…I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance. For the time being, take deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. I’ve been told that helps.”

So Link does as he’s told—in through his nose, out through his mouth. Except he’s panicking a little and he’s way too hot and he doesn’t _feel well_ , so his breaths are coming too fast, which only makes him queasier—yet he continues. In through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his nose, out thr—no, no, no, no, nononono—but it’s too late as he practically _dives_ for the edge, gripping the side of the wooden hull tightly as his stomach tries to force nothing up his throat, since he has nothing left _to_ throw up. So he sputters and gags hard on a tiny splash of acid, which hurts approximately one million times worse than the previous instances. When he’s finally done, he has to scrub away the tear tracks on his cheeks and swipe futilely at his runny nose with the back of his sleeve, not caring how disgusting he must look.

Evidentially, the boat doesn’t mind much, either. That’s a relief. Though it’s awful to have someone as a witness to this, at least he isn’t about to be abandoned in the middle of the ocean by his only transportation. “I am sorry to see you feeling so unwell at the beginning of our journey,” and the boat really _does_ sound sympathetic, which is a strange sort of comfort Link hadn’t been expecting to encounter along his travels. It makes him a little homesick, but he knows he _definitely_ can’t handle that on top of being _sea_ sick, so he pushes the thought aside. “Many folks find it gets easier over time, if that is of any consolation.” Clearly the King is out of ideas as well, which makes two of them.

So Link resolves to try the breathing exercise again. Surely it can’t _hurt_. Stare at the horizon…breathe _slowly_ this time…steer the boat without breaking concentration… It’s not exactly _easy_ , and he still doesn’t feel very well, but it’s manageable. And he isn’t throwing up anymore, which is a huge improvement in his book.

When the King of Red Lions suggests they take a break about an hour later, he’s more than happy to flop backwards despite the previously given advice. He’s _tired_. Feeling terrible is _exhausting_.

…Except he finds that, actually, he really doesn’t…feel so terrible anymore? He vaguely hears the King say something about how he can keep them mostly in the same spot until they‘re ready to resume travel, which is more than enough explanation for Link to close his eyes and allow himself to be covered in the warm blanket of the sun.

At what point had the sun become comforting rather than sweltering, anyway? And at what point had the ocean water ceased to be nauseating and instead become…?

He falls asleep to the even rocking of the waves.


End file.
